Blame
by FluffleNeCharka
Summary: When Razputin is injured on a mission, his father knows exactly who to blame. [Oneshot.]


Author's Note: All my best ideas come to me late at night. This one came to me at one in the morning, for instance. Though this is intended to be a oneshot from Razputin's father's point of view, there may be a sequel if I can find time for it later. Until then, please enjoy and remember I own nothing.

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I blame you, Sasha Nein.

This is _your_ fault.

It is your fault my son is half-dead and nearly insane. Since you reopened that barely-functional asylum as a 'recovery center' for after missions, you thought you could hide him from me, from his only parent, his father. But I saw him as Ford and Oleander dragged him past. He whimpered, gasped, called out names, kicked with his left leg. His right one hung bloody and immobile on the ground as he was whisked past, not recognizing anyone or anything. The attempts of the two men to talk to him were met with ear splitting screeches.

He said your name, you know.

He called out, "Sasha! Where am I?!" as if you would be there to give him the answer. He screamed out for you as he went past me, not seeing me at all, looking for you and Milla.

Understand I hold nothing against Milla Vodello. I know she was there with you two when this happened, but I know she tried to save Razputin. I know she was the one who carried him to the nearest medical facility. I know for a fact she didn't want a twelve year old Agent on a drug bust anyway. I have no qualm with her. She did what she could. She even stayed with me in the asylum waiting room, offering words of comfort. She's a lot like Razputin's mother was; kind, gentle, thoughtful, and she even looks like Raz, too. He called out to her to find the only mother figure he had, the blameless, selfless mother figure the Psychonauts somehow gave him. I could never blame her.

It's you I blame.

When you assigned him this job, were you looking at Razputin Aquato, Sasha? Were you looking at the boy who had idolized you for almost three years, who knew your life story, who looked up to you more than he did me? Did you see the child, the inexperienced child with very little hardcore life under his belt? Were you looking at the boy who still slept with a nightlight, still feared every pond and stream he passed, who kept his pyrokinesis at the ready day and night? Were you looking at my son, my only living relative, my over eager and clumsy child?

No, I don't think you were, Agent Nein. I think you were looking at Raz, the prodigy, the wunderkind, the boy who had mastered in two days the psychic abilities that took others years to master. You looked at him and saw grace where there was clumsiness, intelligence when there was really just enthusiasm, preparedness when he was just being brave. I think you were looking at the most impressive brainwave read outs you'd ever gotten. I think you weren't seeing him but who you wanted to see, the unbreakable, untouchable, unbeatable Agent Aquato. I think you looked at vital stats and psychic rank numbers. I think you didn't live in reality when you gave him this assignment.

Look what you've done to my son. He's shaking, screaming, high on cocaine and psitanium and he's bleeding. You made my son bleed, Sasha. Look at him.

Don't give me bullshit about being outnumbered and overwhelmed and ambushed. You have been at this job for almost seventeen years. If you had been seeing the child you were throwing into this situation, not the Agent, you would have been able to protect him. You could have blocked the sudden blasts of flying powder and the bullet. I know you can. Razputin has told me a lot about you, you know.

Razputin has told me how smart, intelligent, witty, incredibly clever you're supposed to be. He said you can solve any problem, make the best jokes that no one else gets, teach things normal people can't even comprehend. He has told me how logical, calm, and cool you are, how you can always manage your feelings. He has told me how you helped him settle down (in part) and how you taught him to turn his enthusiasm and willpower into duel weapons. Razputin has detailed for me your every word, your every move, your every whim since he met you. He has told me your life story, how you became a Psychonaut, and he can name all your major missions. He tells me you once took on fifty psychic terrorists at once alone and won. You have skills that have won you medals, recognition, money, and his heart.

Where was that skill tonight?

Don't tell me how it'll all be over soon. I know my son is in a private room now, screaming, and soon Oleander will inject him with tranquilizer and Razputin will be out for the next two days, recovering. I know a good vitakinetic can patch up his leg. I know that in a weeks time, Raz will be home with me for Thanksgiving and talking to me like nothing bad ever happened, and to you this will be over. But at this moment in time it is far from over. This evening has just begun for you and I, you who let my son end up like this when you swore he wouldn't get hurt. We need to talk, Sasha Nein.

You have let this family down. Razputin and I are a family of two. We are a small, broken family, one that holds itself together by staying close physically and mentally. You've taken that away. I let you take that bond away because I thought surely, surely you would protect him when he was put in harms way. I thought you cared about him. You spent so much time with him and spent so long working with him, talking to him. I thought you understood him, understood the special, wonderful person that is my son, that you knew his limits. Either you didn't or you decided to test them out tonight, Sasha, but don't expect me to forgive this. Was this a measure of his skill, his mental shielding abilities, some other aspect of his psyche? Was my son an experiment? You took away my family and hurt him for some sick scientific test?

I know Milla will defend you, but with all due respect she defends everyone on the face of this Earth to the death, and words are doing me little good right now, even kind and gentle ones meant to heal. What can words do when my child is screaming, in a straitjacket, talking to the air, bleeding, and high, in an insane asylum? You took my trust in you and broke it. I let you take him around the world but the second I wasn't paying close attention, you threw all your responsibility away. 'Tried to shield him'?! More words. Words aren't helping this right now. Words aren't going to get my trust in you back. Nevermind all this technical stuff you're trying to throw at me.

I still blame you.


End file.
